Page 41 of Fierce Pursuit

Even if, deep down, buried beneath the frustration and bruised ego, a small, infuriating part of me felt proud. Mygirl was smart. She was tough. And in a pinch, she could handle herself.

Too bad she’d never get the chance to use those skills again.

She was mine now. Under my protection. And I would never underestimate her again.

“Seriously,” continued Anton, his voice full of amusement. “I’m guessing ten? Maybe twenty trained fighters? Big guys. With guns. Because surely the infamous Konstantine Nikolai Ivanov wasn’t bested by a slip of a girl?”

I exhaled slowly through my nose, my grip tightening as I imagined every possible way to kill them when this was over.

“Cut me free now, or I will kill each of you slowly and drink the blood from your slit throats.”

Mac sucked in a breath, shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah…I don’t know how scared I am right now. I mean, if a girl could?—”

“Cut. Me. Free. Now. Fuckers.”

The laughter died down.

Var let out a dramatic sigh. “All right, stop struggling. You keep tightening those cords, and we’ll have to cut off a hand to get you loose.”

“I swear to fucking God?—”

The smooth swoosh and click of a butterfly knife opening cut me off.

Cool steel pressed against my skin, and a second later, relief. The knots loosened, blood rushed back into my fingers in a painful, tingling wave, and the fire in my shoulders slowly started to subside.

I stood to my full height, rolling my neck, cracking my spine as I stretched out the knots Marina had left in my back.

I was going to be sore.

My little rabbit had put me in one hell of a bind.

I looked forward to repaying the compliment by tying her to the first available bed the moment I got my hands on her.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—fantasize, really—about what other hidden talents she had.

“So, really.” Var continued to push. “How did this happen?”

“It happened because I underestimated her.”

The words burned coming out of my mouth, but it was the truth.

She wasn’t the daughter of a bratva boss. She wasn’t an enforcer. But she had picked up a thing or two.

It didn’t help that I let the needs of my cock distract me.

It wouldn’t have worked if it wasn’t for that baton-happy cop earlier.

The sting in the back of my skull throbbed as a reminder of both of their hands in my humiliation.

I moved to the vanity, now missing her perfume and the other odds and ends that made it hers, and inspected the cut on my forehead in the mirror.

It needed stitches.

But I didn’t have time for that.

“I’ll grab a first aid kit,” Mac offered, and I swore he was trying not to laugh.

I ignored him, shuffling through Marina’s drawersuntil my fingers wrapped around the neck of a cheap fifth of vodka.

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